Trish thought she was dreaming. Of all the ways to wake her up, Randy would have never chosen to do that. He'd have shaken her or gone to a more creative and admittedly pleasurable way. But wakey wakey? No, Randy would never say that, so this had to still be a dream.
Then, she heard the words again, and it wasn't Randy's voice. Her eyes slowly started to open, but her lids were heavy. The Ambien wanted to pull her back under into sleep, but the caller was persistent. He would keep talking until she opened her eyes.
Trish stretched... and her arms hit steel. Her eyes popped open and she sat up quickly. She looked around her and saw bars. She crabwalked backwards and her back hit bars. She was in her cage, and she didn't know how she'd gotten there. When Randy left she was in her bed, on her way to sleep...
And then she stopped to look down at herself. She yelped at the realization that whomever had put her in the cage had left her topless. She tried to cover herself, but her body was still partially asleep and the most she could do was drape the sheet she sat on over her chest.
Then there was laughter in the darkness. She couldn't see him, but she could hear him, and she knew that this was the man who had beaten Randy, who had hidden cameras in her apartment and tried to kill Hunter and Dave. This was the man that had murdered Ric Flair in cold blood, then lured his young daughter to be traumatized.
"Don't worry, Trish. I don't wanna see it, anyway. I just didn't want you waking up before I got you where you're supposed to be."
"What?" She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them wide. She still couldn't see anything. All of the blinds were closed and what little moonlight peeked through wasn't enough to illuminate the intruder. "How did you get in here?"
Keys jingled. "It's really easy to get in when you're invited."
She shook her head. No... if he were trying to play that he was Christian, then this wouldn't work. So what if he'd somehow gotten a hold of Christian's keys, but these were new locks. He couldn't possibly have a set with the new locks. In that discovery, Trish laughed loudly, her head rocking back to hit the bars. "Oh my God! You're not Christian!"
Trish's laughter died down and there was nothing left but silence. It was as though she was alone in the darkness and it gave her chills. She was proud of herself for figuring out that her tormentor wasn't Christian, but the silence was eerie, creepy even. She went to her hands and knees and crawled forward. The sheet fell from her and she didn't care. She kept inching forward until she reached the opposite side of the large cage. She gripped the bars loosely and peered forward.
A face rushed up to her, and she screamed. Trish scrambled backwards as she looked into sunglasses and a wide smile. "Who said I was Christian?" he whispered, then moved back. Trish could almost here a whoosh when he backed away, as though he were a cartoon villain or something.
"Who are you?" She held on to the bars and started to move forward again. "Who are you, and why are you doing this?" It wasn't Christian, she knew that for sure now, but he still looked like him, at least a little bit.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" He chuckled. "Flair wanted to know, but I didn't feel like telling him. You, though... I guess it would be only right for you to know who I am. But, not right now. I'll save that for right before you die."
Trish gulped hard. Fear was a cold lump in her stomach. Sweat lined her spine. Her body held a slight tremor that grew more and more every second. She gripped the bars harder and looked around. She wasn't in her bedroom, she knew that, but just where she was... This guy had gone to the trouble to bring her cage up to the house, and she tried to think of the only place where there would be room in her condo for it to sit in the middle of a room and not touch anything.
The Studio! Of course! She was in her dance studio, which was all the way on the other end, upstairs. She was pretty much isolated, just like Ric had been. No one would hear her scream. But, then she thought about Randy. He was supposed to come back that night. Maybe he would get there and then...
Then what? This guy was psycho. He had already killed two people and tried to kill more. What would Randy be able to do? He had a gun, but he didn't always carry it with him. What if he didn't have it on him? He wouldn't be able to save her. He'd only get himself killed. She didn't to die, but she didn't want Randy to die, either.
Trish jerked on the cage and screamed, "Let me out of here!"
"Do you know what they did to Christian, Trish?" His voice held no more humor. He was coming closer to her. His voice was getting louder, and angrier. "I had a private detective find out. They paid off the higher-ups and put a leash on Benoit. He figured it out, you know. That Christian didn't commit suicide."
She jerked on the cage again, then went rigid. "Christian..."
"They put him in a steel cage and they grabbed his arms."
"Christian OD'd." For as long as she had wanted to believe that someone had killed Christian, she now wanted to believe that his death was an accident. She didn't want to hear this maniac tell her how he had died. "He got a bad batch of heroin."
"Christian didn't do heroin!" He came closer to the cage and Trish heard somthing click against the bars. "They put him in a cage. A fucking cage! They grabbed his arms and shot him up so high he never fucking came down. Do you hear me, Trish? They shot him up and then they tossed his body in a fucking alley!"
Trish shook hard enough that with her grip on the bars, so did the cage. She was coming more awake, and with wakefulness came understanding. She was going to die the way Christian had. That click against the bars... that had been a needle. He was going to shoot her up and leave her somewhere.
"Let me out!" She jerked on the cage so hard that she could swear she would dislocate something. She screamed and pulled. "Let me out of here! Help! Somebody! Let me... out of here!"
"You'll die in filth, just like Christian."
"No! Let me out of here!" The cage rocked. She stood up and grabbed the perch above her head. She pulled, trying to pull herself up, but the perch broke and she fell to the floor. She scrambled to get up, but he was there already. He grabbed her arm and pulled her flush against the side of the rounded cage. Her face hit the cage with enough force to make her dizzy.
"Sit still and shut the fuck up."
There was a sharp pain in her arm and her body tightened. "No!" She had never done heroin. Christian hadn't done heroin either. She knew this and her body knew it. Her body didn't want it in her and tried to fight it off, painfully. She tried to scream for him to stop, but nothing would come from her mouth.
Just as her body started to relax, there was another sharp poke in her other arm and her body went rigid again. She felt as though someone were wrapping her insides around hot pokers then twisting them. Everything hurt. Her arms were released and she fell back against the floor of the cage. Her back arched, her body convulsed. She didn't understand why people did this. At least with cocaine, there had always been a pretty much instant high. This hurt, this was horrible, this...
Started to reside. Her body went limp against the floor, and then she rolled. Her mind was clouded, but something in her knew she had to try and reach... what? She wasn't sure, but she had to get to a different place. She slid across the floor and lightly gripped the bars. Trish pulled herself forward until her head hit the bars with a thud. Skin touched hers, and then there was breath against her face. The breathing was hot and unfamiliar. She wanted it to go away.
There was a click and she tried to look up. Her vision was a blur and through the haze, she could see the cage door starting to open. If she were more aware, she would have made a break for it, but all she could do was slowly slither towards the opening, hoping that maybe she would fall out. He took a step inside, and then stopped.
Had he heard something? Trish didn't know. She couldn't hear anything but her own blood rushing through her body. She was picked up, then dropped again. "Shit." He shook his head and climbed out. He leaned near her and whispered, "When you get to hell, bitch, tell 'em Edge sent you."
He turned and ran. She didn't know where he went. She didn't care too much. He had left the door open and if he weren't near, she could possibly slide out. And then what? There had to be a phone somewhere. It was her house and she could find anything with a blindfold on. She was sure she could find a phone close enough to call 911.
Trish fell out of the cage with a thud and curled up in a ball on the floor. She started to sink and tried to claw her way up. She thought she was sinking, at least. It certainly felt that way. But in the darkness, there was nothing to hold onto, nothing to use as leverage. Even if there was something around, her arms were too weak to hold onto it. She tried to scream, but nothing came out.
Then, the darkness was chased away by a blinding light. Hands were on her and she tried to shove them away. She mewed softly and started to cry because she couldn't stop him. He would throw her in an alley and leave her to spend her last few hours rooting in filth. A sob fell from her mouth.
"Trish!"
The voice was muffled, but it sounded familiar. It sounded strangely like something that should calm her. She didn't understand, because Edge's voice would definitely not calm her. At the very least it would make her scream and at the most it would kill her quicker. She would literally be scared to death.
"Trish, it's Randy! Trish!"
Randy? She tried to open her eyes to look at him, but she couldn't see anything but the bright light that burned her pupils. She heard his muffled voice talking on a phone, then there was a scream of frustration. She thought she heard the phone drop, and then she was lifted. He was carrying her somewhere. Was Randy going to be the one to leave her in the trash?
She wanted to talk to him, but she couldn't. He was still screaming at her, though. He was trying to get her to stay awake, but it was hard. She didn't even realize she was awake until he told her not to go to sleep. She thought she must have made some sound, but didn't remember. She heard him say hospital and was relieved. He won't throw me away, she thought.
Her lips moved, and while she wasn't sure if any sound actually came out, she at least tried to tell him. She was drifting farther into the dark, but she wanted to at least give him something that would save him from the psychotic murderer that had gotten rid of her because of Christian. She wanted him to have some kind of defense. She wanted to say, "Edge." She fell into the dark abyss, unsure if the word had come out of her mouth or just volleyed back and forth in her head.
...go back